


Things Said And Done

by mneiai



Series: Prickly Pear [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has always loved too greatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Said And Done

Castiel tried not to make a noise as he clutched his head. Pain was a familiar companion, now, but the headaches were incapacitating. All he had to offer Dean was his knowledge, but he felt as though it was sloughing from him, his brains melting through his ears in a steady stream.

Someone thrust a pill between his lips, then pressed a bottle--water--after them. He swallowed even as he felt as if it would all come back up. After it had fully settled within him, he opened his eyes, staring into Sam's. The concern was breathtaking, reminding Castiel of the brilliant torn pieces of innocence scarring Sam's soul in an attempt to stay attached, despite demon blood and human hatred. He wishes he could still see that ruined soul, make out what pieces had gone and which were left behind.

"Thank you," he croaked, caught off guard by the beatific smile Sam returned, as if a thank you was a gift beyond Grace itself.

A hand settled on his shoulder and Castiel needed neither angelic nor human senses to know that Dean had returned. The way Sam's eyes lit up even more matched the soaring feeling in Castiel's heart, for they were both waiting for the moment Dean realized they were a burden. But it wasn't today, because he directed Sam to the bags of takeout and kneaded gently at Castiel's neck, fighting against the pain.

"I know what it is," Castiel said after a few minutes of enjoying Dean's firm hands through the pressure in his skull. "Do you remember when I first tried to speak to you? This is much the same. I have the ability to hear my brothers, but not the power to withstand such an act."

Dean came around Castiel's chair in order to meet his eyes. "Is someone trying to contact you?"

"Or I'm simply overhearing the conversations of others, unable to interpret them through the pain." Dean's eyes narrowed, but he said no more. They both took the food Sam handed to them and ate in silence.

***

The next day was better. Dean drove them to another motel in another town and they ate sandwiches and pie in another diner. Without his Grace, Castiel needed food to support his Vessel, but he could not fully appreciate it. While many of the tastes were fascinating, the textures were off-putting. He ate everything set before him, however, because it pleased Dean, and Dean needed more small pleasures in his life.

Perhaps that is why Castiel stayed behind with Dean while Sam went looking through antique stores and the local library for books that might be hidden within. Castiel shared the time watching television and translating glyphs, eyes tracking Dean's movements, wishing he could see into his mind.

He had yet to have a migraine. He was not sure if it was a sign of improvement, a further step toward being human, or if the anti-angel symbols they had drawn along the walls in chalk and cow's blood (Dean grabbing Castiel's hand as it went for the knife, eyes bold and dark, reminding him of what humans couldn't do) were working.

"When I was first created," he began into the relative silence, then paused as he tried to work his thoughts into English, "I knew nothing but joy, for I had not only His love, but the love of His favorite." Dean had stopped flipping through channels and focused on Castiel with the intensity of someone truly interested in what was being said. "I was too naïve to know that not all love is good, even when only a degree removed from the Father."

Castiel shifted, moving his eyes off of Dean and to the checkered cloth of the bedspread they both sat on. "When Lucifer fell, I betrayed both sides. I was stripped of my proper name, my rightful power, demoted to a lowly soldier in a minor garrison. And I was happy, because it was His will, because I had unintentionally backed myself into a position where a loyalty I should always have was in question. I did not allow anymore questions into my life. Not until I met you."

"Cas."

He held up his hand, interrupting Dean without looking at him. "I am not telling you this to hurt you, Dean. You're blameless in all of this. I am telling you these things to prove that...as much as I tried, I could never fit in with my brothers, not with _any_ of my brothers."

He looked at Dean, now, at the beautiful, wretched mortality of him: the blinking of his eyes, the rise and fall of his chest. Castiel reached across the bed and rested a hand on Dean's neck, feeling the pulse jumping under his fingers. "I am alone among angels, Dean, because we are without souls, without will, without emotion, and yet the only thing I have ever truly known is how to deeply, eternally love."

Castiel didn't have to move again, because Dean was doing it. He rose above him, pushing Castiel back then settling the warm bulk of his body down. Their lips met and Castiel thought of Anna, but pushed it away--he was giving this moment in time to Dean, he would not allow any others to distract him.

***

When Sam came back, Dean and Castiel were under the covers, prickling with cooling sweat. They were asleep, so Sam closed the door with more care than he'd opened it. Moving through the room, he picked up the books and paper that had fallen from their bed, turned off the tv, then made his way to the bathroom in order to wash off the dust he had collected.

As he closed the door, he stared at the mirror, the reflection of the two--Castiel's head resting over Dean's heart, Dean's hand curled into Castiel's hair, fingers gripping with a protective, possessive gesture that Sam knew well--made him feel rejuvenated. This was the first sign he'd had in a long time that maybe, just maybe, they could start to hope for something more.


End file.
